


Beguilled

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Pining, Poetry, Poetry reading, Protectiveness, Secret Crush, Uncle/Nephew Incest, seriously so many poems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:14:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17617052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: A poetry writing lesson led to a startling discovery that Kili’s heart was taken. Thorin, who had long harbored affection for his sister-son, was resigned to a broken heart. That was until he began to suspect that the mysterious beloved was someoneveryclose to him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In today’s episode of Ryu should be kept away from the history/culture side of tumblr: Weird ideas happen when I met a historian specializing in Persian history. I rarely hear about this particular era and civilization and they turn out to be intriguing! I’ve used several Rumi’s poems in my fics before, but when I was introduced to some of Abu Nuwas’ naughty poems, I knew I have to write more poem fics! Warning: I know very little about poetry writing. I’ve tried writing some and to be honest, I think it’s just not my thing. So, I did my research and… that’s it. All mistakes are upon my lack of talent in this subject.
> 
> Anyway, this fic is not long… for my standard, but it has many poems and therefore many links, so I decided to separate it into two parts. Alternative title: “It’s a metaphor, Thorin.”

Thorin wondered, not for the first time, why he was the one chosen to teach his heirs poetry writing. Dis seemed to be the obvious choice, being the lads’ mother, although he had to admit that his sister’s artistic talent leaned more toward music than poetry. Balin could take his place here, being the excellent teacher that he was. However, Thorin always thought that Balin’s poems were lacking, carrying straightforwardness that fit his duties but made arts dry. There were very few others Thorin found to have satisfactory skill in poetry writing. For this, he only had himself to blame. When he, Thrain and Thror established Ered Luin, they thought only of how to best govern and prosper their people. Art hadn’t been their priority and Thorin had failed to change this in his reign. While music thrived easily, poems became increasingly rare. He hadn’t thought much of this until it was time to teach Fili and Kili the skill. Now, Thorin sadly thought of the teachers he had had in Erebor, those who patiently taught him about beauty in an education otherwise filled with practicality.

Thorin was the most suitable to give the lesson. Not because he had exceptional skill in the art, but because he was the only one left who was able to bring the lads to the level required for dwarves of their stations. It would not be an easy task, however, if the discontented frowns on his sister-sons’ face were any indication. Quietly, he braced himself for an argument.

“But, why do we have to learn it?” Kili demanded predictably. “What’s the use of writing poetry? Won’t combat skills be more?”

Beside the lad, Fili was quiet, but his lack of interception to his brother’s outburst showed that he was of one mind with Kili. Thorin wouldn’t find any help there. Indeed, if he insisted on teaching them this skill, he would be quite on his own.

“There is more than the art of war for princes to learn. You must know other arts, too,” Thorin returned.

“We can sing!” Kili continued to argue, looking at his brother for support. Fili’s silence didn’t deter him. “And play fiddles!”

“But, you can’t write poems.”

“Why would we need to be able to write poems?”

“What Kili means,” Fili finally spoke up, probably realizing Thorin’s rising ire at Kili’s continued stubbornness. “is that as beautiful as the art is, we have never seen it put to use, especially in the roles we will assume.”

Always the diplomatic one. Fili’s cleverness with words would lend itself very well to poetry writing. There was potential in that one, Thorin thought. But, the potential would remain unused if he couldn’t convince Fili to learn this art. The key to convincing him, however, lay in Kili. An excellent diplomat and prince though Fili was, he still submitted to his younger’s brother’s will. Thorin still hadn’t quite figured it out—he and Frerin had never had this sort of dynamics. He supposed it was because of Kili’s fiery but sweet disposition which Thorin, too, was vulnerable to. Despite Kili’s appearance, there were such dwarf-like properties in him that Thorin couldn’t help but adore. Some people had accused him of spoiling his youngest heir and he couldn’t refute them. Denying Kili’s wishes had never been easy for him, but he was determined to have the lad obey him this time.

“Have you ever sung or played your fiddles as a part of your duty?” he asked them. When they gave tentative negative responses, he nodded. “Not every lesson you have to learn is to be used for your duties. Some you learn for pleasure.”

Kili looked doubtful. “I don’t think there is much pleasure in writing poems.”

On this, Thorin couldn’t argue, for it wasn’t his favorite pastime, either. Still, he continued to insist. “A prince also must be well-versed in beauty. He must be able to see beyond how to best serve his interests.” He put his hands of the lads’ shoulders, taking care to give special attention to Kili, who had a weakness for his attention as much as Thorin had for his smiles. “We are sons of Durin. We are to set examples for our people and Middle Earth. There is more to show them than the fact that we don’t run from fights. We must also show them that we are learned dwarves, capable of recognizing and creating beauty. You both have learned the arts of music and forging. It’s now time for you to learn poetry.”

Kili ducked his head. Though he frowned still, Thorin could sense that his protest was weakening. “I still don’t see when we will put this skill to use,” he groused.

“I use it in private,” Thorin admitted, drawing the princes’ attention, both of whom were always eager to follow his example. “Although, you can share it with others, too. When…” Thorin paused, remembering Erebor, the memory always bitter to him. So many people and so much culture and history were lost that day. He did his best to remember and preserve them, but he was all too aware of how time eroded everything. He was shaken out of his reminiscing only when Kili turned to him, a small furrow on his brows as his eyes softened in sympathy. Thorin smiled to him and continued. “When I was younger, my friends and I used to share each other’s works. It’s a way to express yourself, not unlike singing and playing fiddles.”

Kili and Fili looked at each other in a silent discussion. Finally, Kili made the decision for them. “All right. But, you must not laugh at my work!”

“No one with good manners will laugh at anyone’s work,” Thorin assured him.

Before Kili (and thus Fili) could change his mind, Thorin immediately started the lesson. He taught them the form and the rules of poetry and showed them classic examples he had had to memorize in the past. To start, he showed them light-hearted poems of wine, music, party, and wit. Fili and Kili laughed at some of them, their doubts lessening with every poetry Thorin recited. They were truly tickled, however, when he implied the existence of raunchy poems. When they begged him to recite some, he vehemently refused, citing the inappropriateness of the subject, although he teased that he had once been _very_ familiar with such works. This successfully roused their curiosity, as well as opening their minds to possibilities. Poems weren’t only for dramatic writing of some exaggerated events or lengthy musings. They could be playful and a joy to read and write. When Thorin instructed them to write their first poems, they only needed a little convincing.

He decided not to limit their subject for the time being. Political or philosophical contemplation could come later, when they were more comfortable with the art. Thorin’s past tutor had been a tad overenthusiastic in shaping Thorin into a perfect leader despite his young age. Her constant urging that Thorin wrote thoughtful reflection of the state of the kingdom had no doubt contributed to his disinterest in poetry. Now, he gave his nephews the freedom to write what they wanted, to let their minds roam and imaginations wander. His only advice was to draw from their real experiences rather than imagined ones for easier writing. He watched them look for the words that best conveyed their messages and modify lines (many of them crossed out) to beautify them. It was a good exercise for the mind, if nothing else. They should be able to think more than just the quickest way to defeat an enemy or the best solutions to their people’s endless problems. They should understand the weight of words and the power when they were strung just right, important lessons for princes such as them.

“I think I’m finished,” Fili said while critically frowning at the parchment before him. Beside him, his brother groaned in dismay.

“It’s horrible! I’m not good at this at all!” he exclaimed.

Fili huffed, ruffling his brother’s hair. “Shyness doesn’t become of you, Kili.”

“I’m not shy!” Kili argued, gesturing to his poem. “It’s just really terrible! I have no talent with words. You know this!”

“Talent, no one can help you with, but skill can be learned and improved.”

“Not this skill!”

“That remains to be seen. Why don’t you read your poem first, Fili?” Thorin said, ending what was shaping out to be a lengthy argument that would inevitably be won by Kili. If they allowed him to continue, he would leave the lesson in mere minutes and never take it back up again.

Fili nodded and picked up his parchment. His voice was clear, tinged with a hint of a warm smile when he read his poem. Thorin noticed a subtle mischievous spark in his eyes. Fili was more mature than Kili was, owing to both age and future responsibilities, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of playfulness. He had his own subtle ways of testing the lines of propriety, unlike his brother who simply ignored those. As aware as he was of his current and future roles, Fili was only a young dwarf. He was as tempted as any of his peers to break rules and enjoy freedom while he could. Strict upbringing by his parents, his teachers and Thorin himself had ensured that even when he fell into those temptations, he never fell too far. Thorin sat back and listened carefully to him with a smile, expecting a twist to acceptable vices, a stab at impropriety without being fully deviant. He wasn’t disappointed.

_How I wish today that_

_My share of life’s provisions_

_Was a wine on which to squander_

_My earnings and inheritance;_

_That, infatuated with it, my heart might drift_

_In every dry river valley_

“If you keep drinking as you did a couple of nights ago, this won’t only be a poem, but also a prophecy!”

Fili only grinned in self-satisfaction even as he turned a little red. It was clear that this was the reaction he sought to achieve, so Thorin didn’t try to stop Kili from laughing. He himself didn’t withhold his chuckle. “Excellent work. I take it that you’re inspired by a recent event.”

“And many previous ones!” Kili chirped up cheerfully. He gave Thorin an impish look that never failed to inspire joy in Thorin’s bruised heart, making him forget painful history and uncertain future temporarily. This time, too, his lips curled up at the look even before Kili continued speaking. In another lifetime, perhaps… But, there was no point in thinking about what was impossible. “You should come with us to tavern sometimes, Thorin. My brother here can drink almost as well as Mister Dwalin can!”

“Is that so? I must see it sometime,” Thorin agreed, finally giving in and laughing. “I hope this is not your actual plan for the future.”

Fili was quick to reassure him. “Of course not. It’s just a thought that sometimes occur to me.”

“Especially when you’re drinking, I bet,” Kili teased him, nudging his side.

“You speak as if you forego drinking! But, I carried you home just a few nights ago and Mister Balin had plenty to say about your inattention to your lessons!”

“It’s very well-written, Fili,” Thorin complimented as his nephews began to bicker. He smiled when they quieted down immediately and listened to him. “You make such a simple idea sound beautiful.”

“Thank you. I think it’s a little too plain.” Dwarves were often plagued with pride, but not so with Fili. He was always modest, a good sign for the future. He still had much to learn in the ways of kings, but Thorin could tell that he would be an excellent successor for him, not the least because he wouldn’t be ruined by arrogance as many kings had been before him.

“Not plain. Not as flowery as some, perhaps. But there’s nothing wrong with simplicity.” Then, Thorin turned to Kili. He raised an eyebrow when Kili’s laughter faded into uncertainty. How rare it was to see him approach something with little confidence. Usually, he was too sure of himself, leaping into all sorts of dangers and difficult spots even when he had every sensible reason to doubt himself. This had been a source of Thorin’s fears for many decades. Who would think that it would take something as simple as poetry writing to remind Kili of his limitations? “It’s your turn now, Kili.”

“Must I read it?” Kili gave Thorin a pitiful look in vain, for Thorin had resolved to teach his heirs poetry. If there was an added lesson of humility, then all the better for it.

“I read mine, so you should read yours, too,” Fili said, clearly eager to tease his brother in return.

Thorin nodded in agreement. “Go on,” he said encouragingly. Aware of how anxious Kili was, he carefully reined his emotions, showing only support and gentleness. Humility and humiliation were not one and the same. One was a necessary trait for everyone, especially those in high stations, while the other was a potentially cruel torment that could leave lasting scars, as Thorin knew all too well. He smiled when Kili gave him a hapless look. When the lad finally, hesitantly read his poem, his voice was filled with uncertainty.

_I am in love but cannot say with whom; I fear him who fears no one!_

_When I think about my love for him, I feel for my head and wonder if it is still attached to my body!_

Silence greeted the rather speedy reading, broken by Fili’s guffaw. “I base my poem on my experience, but what are you basing yours on, brother? Who is this dwarf you speak of?”

Kili colored brightly as he sank into his chair, trying vainly to make himself small and disappear. “It’s no one. And you’re not supposed to laugh!”

“That doesn’t sound like no one to me. What was it you said? _I fear him who fears no one_? I must know this brave warrior!”

“You won’t know him because he’s not real!”

Despite his words, however, the redness of Kili’s skin didn’t recede and his squirming gave the truth away. Thorin said nothing as to not give away his feelings. They were at the age where they practice romance. Indeed, he had heard of some of the lucky dwarves Fili had taken up as lovers. It didn’t upset Thorin—he, too, had had his share of lovers when he was Fili’s age. He had never heard of Kili’s foray into romance, however. The lad supposedly only thought of three things only: adventure, battle, and tavern. Thorin didn’t question this report. When they were together, Kili only ever spoke of places he had been and would love to go to, dwarves he had defeated and would like to defeat, and nights spent with music and hearty ale and meal enjoyed with good friends. His eyes never wandered to anyone—even the most handsome lasses and lads received but a passing glance from him. The only one he cared to impress was Thorin, being the loyal dwarf that he was. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, if Thorin called for him, he would run to him. He thought too highly of Thorin, something that worried Thorin sometimes. Unlike his brother, he had yet to accept that Thorin was as flawed as everyone was. It was surprising to know that his attention had become divided—Thorin hadn’t noticed it before today. But, he supposed it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that Kili finally realized that there were others equal or superior to Thorin in some ways. The thought stung a little, but Thorin was determined that his feelings shouldn’t get in the way of his sister-sons living their lives fully.

“A warrior, eh? I shouldn’t expect any less from you,” Fili continued with a smug smirk. “No boring scribe could win you.”

“He’s not real!” Kili insisted fruitlessly. “He’s a character I made up because love poems are always popular!”

Fili raised an eyebrow in jest. “Why, I didn’t know you have such vivid imagination, brother.”

“If you can think up a “dry river valley” when we live by a river that hardly ceases flowing all year long, I can think up an imaginary lover!”

“Natural phenomenon is easier to imagine than an emotion, especially one so strong as to incite fear.”

Finally taking pity on his flustered nephew, Thorin raised his hand to silence Fili. “That’s a very good poem, Kili. Brief, but succinct and _fascinating_.”

“Thank you,” Kili muttered, still red in the face.

Thorin smiled to him comfortingly. “It really is very good,” he repeated and waited until Kili could meet his eyes steadily. Although slightly curious about the subject, he didn’t pursue it, not wanting to antagonize his nephew. “Yet another excellent example of how verbose doesn’t equal to quality. Plain words could covey feelings as well as complex ones. It’s only a matter of how you arrange your thoughts into words.”

“The poems you’ve shown us before have prettier words than ours,” Kili said, clearly hoping to divert attention from his work.

Thorin nodded. The look of gratitude Kili gave him made him smile all the wider. Not for the first time, he berated himself for spoiling the lad so. It couldn’t be helped, not when Kili was all mischief, inquisitiveness, and sweetness. Thorin wasn’t under any illusion that he hadn’t partaken in any darker acts (Kili’s hands were almost as bloody as his). It was the fact that Kili managed to retain his faith in the world despite knowing its evils that drew Thorin to him, that made him marvel at him. At his age, Thorin had started to be weary of the world, all too aware of the problems it had that must be mitigated and fixed. But, Kili believed that there was something good still in people, the world, and even Thorin. It was selfishness that led Thorin to give him almost everything he wanted. Kili made him believe that he was good and Thorin wanted to be good for him.

“Indeed. It’s a matter of taste. Some prefer poems filled with metaphors and flowery words, while others prefer them simpler. There is no correct or better one, so you may write however you like.” He gestured to their parchments again. “Now write me another one, but this time try the other kind of poems.”

This successfully kept them busy. Thorin observed them for a moment and made sure that Kili was no longer bullied by his brother. Once Kili flashed him a quick but relieved smile, he allowed himself to relax. He closed his eyes, listening to the soft scratches of quills against paper, and let his mind took him to a time and place far from there. He thought of the home lost to a dragon, friends lost to fire, and youth lost to hard times. Grief overcame him for a moment before he collected himself. Thorin opened his eyes and allowed them to settle on Kili, for the sight of him always reminded him of the present and the future. His family was there with him in a new home for his people built by his grandfather and his father. Fili needed his guidance and Thorin was simply too attached to Kili part from him. There were also people who needed a leader who didn’t constantly set his eyes behind him. He couldn’t let the past compromise his reasons and sensibility, a king’s greatest properties. In his heart of heart he knew that one day he would make the journey back to the east to reclaim what was his and finish what his grandfather and father had started but failed to complete, but for now, for the time being he would stay here in the comfort and safety of a new home with his beloved sister and sister-sons.

* * *

Thorin put the incident largely out of his mind. Kili didn’t make any more love poem in their subsequent lessons. Instead, Thorin was entertained by his nephews’ retelling of their love for music, dancing, and drinking. Their chosen topics didn’t bother him. He believed that serious contemplations would come to them naturally when they mastered the art fully and became comfortable with using it. Fili, he believed, was well on his way to being a poet.

_Cupbearer, bring, bring here again my yester even's wine;_

_My harp and fiddle bring, them bid address this heart of mine:_

_While still I live, 'tis meet that I should mirth and glee enjoy;_

_The day shall come when none may e'en my resting-place divine_

Thorin overheard him read this aloud to his admiring friends. It filled him with pride even though this was an invitation to spend an afternoon with goblets in hands and music in the air. Thorin admittedly had little patience for teaching. He knew he was lacking in knowledge and skill when it came to giving instructions. Indeed he had feared that his sister-sons would learn nothing from him in this subject aside from knowing to avoid it. But, Fili was evidently confident enough to show his works to his friends, Kili tolerated the lessons reasonably well, not once complaining after that first lesson, and the culture of their people could be preserved. It was truly all Thorin could hope for in his unfamiliar role as a teacher.

It was on one fine day spent perusing over people’s grievances and demands and his advisors’ proposed solutions with Fili that Fili broke the news to him, reminding him of that first lesson. “I think my brother may truly be in love.”

It was so unexpected that Thorin looked up immediately upon hearing it. Fili wasn’t a gossip. If he chose to share this information with Thorin, there must be something that worried or bothered him. Thorin pushed away the papers before him. Love could be a disastrous thing. Its capacity for causing pain and havoc was as great as its capacity to bring joy and contentment. He thought of Kili, how _free_ he was with his heart. He trusted and liked and now loved too easily. Equally easily would he break his heart. Of course he was a strong dwarf, one of the strongest Thorin had ever known, but the pain of a broken heart had its way of penetrating even the sturdiest armor, taking hold of a soul and tearing it asunder to never be repaired. Dwarves didn’t fade with grief as elves did, but Thorin had seen dwarves so broken he almost wished them such mercy. He didn’t think Kili would face such a fate, but even the thought of his grief was hardly bearable for Thorin.

However, once shock and fear faded, anger, bright red and hot, set in. How dare anyone hurt Kili? Kili who had done no harm, except to those who deserved it. Kili whose aim in life seemed to only to be please others. Kili who was too young to fully understand the true extent and depth of the evils of the world. Kili who deserved nothing less than love and joy from the world. Thorin scowled so fiercely that Fili moved away from him. “Who is it?” he growled.

“I don’t know. He never tells me, but I’ve seen his poems.” Fili gave him a meaningful look. “He writes them in secret. I found some in his room.”

Thorin vaguely recalled the poem Kili had written on the first poetry lesson. He spoke of fear for his life, fear of a warrior who feared no one. “Is it the warrior? If he has hurt Kili…”

“I don’t think he is hurt,” Fili quickly but carefully corrected him. “Not in that way, at least. I rather think it’s an unrequited love.”

“I see,” Thorin murmured, relaxing slightly. He still hated the thought of Kili being in pain, but there was no one to blame in love unreturned. Much as he wished he could hold the mysterious warrior accountable, it was not his fault he didn’t feel the same way as Kili did. “I didn’t realize he’s unhappy.”

“Oh, he’s not unhappy. He’s just… pining. I don’t think he’s fully happy, but he isn’t sad or angry, either. I would call it mere infatuation, but it’s persistent and…” Despite his new skill, Fili struggled for a word, for indeed love was difficult to describe.

Sighing quietly, Thorin spoke, “Love could come at any age, and when it comes, it comes with no guarantee of being returned. Kili is a little young for this, but it happens.” He looked at Fili closely. “Is there any reason for concern?”

There was a deep furrow between Fili’s brows. “Perhaps I worry too much, but his first poem doesn’t exactly paint this dwarf favorably. Kili is not a coward, so who is this dwarf that makes him fear for his life? And if the dwarf inspires such feelings in him, is it wise to let Kili continue to long for him?”

While Thorin believed it wasn’t anyone’s place to meddle with the affairs of the heart, he understood Fili’s concern. Even if this warrior didn’t hurt Kili, it wasn’t advisable for Kili to continue to nurture such strong sentiments. At the very least, even if his heart was set on his beloved, he must understand the dangers of certain flaws in one’s character. “Have you discussed this with him?”

“No. I was wrong to tease him that time. Now he flees whenever I mention romance,” Fili sighed remorsefully.

Thorin gave this some thought for a while, then commanded Fili to return to their previous tasks. They didn’t discuss it any further afterward, but Thorin kept this in mind. He couldn’t come into Kili’s room without reason, so he tried to steal a look of his poems during his lessons. He wasn’t being entirely discreet about it, hovering a little too long behind Kili as he concentrated on his work. Fili gave him a look as he did it, but Thorin ignored him. He wanted to see for himself if indeed his youngest sister-son was in love—and with a dangerous dwarf no less! Kili wrote only of wine and friendship, however, and after weeks of nothing but poems of feasts and hunts, Thorin began to doubt Fili’s report. But, one rainy day, confined indoors in a study cloaked by the smell of old parchments, ancient stones, metallic ink, and lit hearth, Thorin read over Kili’s shoulder as he pretended to be reading a book:

_Love is reckless; not reason._

_Reason seeks a profit._

_Love comes on strong,_

_consuming herself, unabashed_

_Yet, in the midst of suffering,_

_Love proceeds like a millstone,_

_hard surfaced and straightforward._

_Having died of self-interest,_

_she risks everything and asks for nothing._

The beautifully crafted poems survived only a moment. Kili looked at it but a couple of minutes before crossing and blotting it out viciously, no doubt to avoid ridicule from his brother. Thorin quickly moved away, not wanting to vex him and having seen what he had sought for weeks. Later, Kili read them an entirely different poem, once again about the thrill of hunting. Thorin complimented and advised him accordingly, but his mind was fixed still on the poem now lost forever. He tried to salvage the ruined paper, but Kili took it away quickly when the lesson ended and Thorin feared it would be lost to fire.

The earnestness of the poem surprised Thorin. He had expected, even after hearing Fili’s concern, to find Kili’s poems filled with admiring verses. He was no stranger to beautiful praises of a beloved’s character and dogged ignorance of any and all flaws they might have. He hadn’t expected selflessness, loving for the sake of loving itself. Of course Kili naturally thought little of what he would gain from something, but Thorin still expected him to at least think of his potential happiness. And was that not what youth often thought of when they chose their lovers? Weren’t they usually absorbed with the joy and exhilaration they could have with their lovers? Instead, Kili only wrote of suffering and fear and yet no complaint. He didn’t even wish to change his heart and end his misery. It was almost as if he was content in his suffering or perhaps with loving itself. Fili was right to be worried about him. Who was this dwarf that held such power over him?

Thorin wanted to believe this was only a product of imagination, that there was no indifferent beloved at all. Maybe Kili was merely hiding his romantic ideas due to shame. After all, Kili acted no differently than before. Thorin invited him to a hunt a few days after he read the poem and Kili was all unbridled happiness, grinning and laughing as he rode and ran with the wind. He was still only after Thorin told him to be, bribing him with a picnic at the river side. There, they sat for hours, Kili chatting animatedly about his lessons, activities, ideas, and plans. While he mentioned many friends, there was no word of any particular dwarf he might give special attention to. Thorin tried to probe into this, inquiring after the soldiers Kili often trained with, but was answered with an indifferent shrug and a change of topic. For one supposedly deeply in love, he seemed more interested in ways to devote himself to his duties than the pursuit his love. There wasn’t any sign of the pining and suffering Thorin was so worried about. Till the end of the hunt, Kili remained smiling brightly without a care in the world. Perhaps Thorin and Fili were wrong, but Thorin couldn’t risk the chance of leaving his beloved sister-son in misery on his own.

Kili was delighted when Thorin announced that he would join him and Fili at the tavern one evening. He could barely contain himself, begging to end their lessons early so that they might go sooner. His hopefulness almost made Thorin relent, but he knew the importance of education and insisted on following their scheduled activities. How Kili pouted and complained when he heard this! Thorin chuckled at the sight and squeezed his shoulder to settle him. Inwardly, he cursed the ignorant warrior who might have unknowingly hurt such a sweet creature. He hoped the person didn’t truly exist not only for Kili’s sake, but also because Thorin wouldn’t want to have a damned fool in his army.

When the lessons finally ended, Kili all but dragged Thorin to the city, now awash with lights of lanterns, torches, and candles rather than the sun. There were still as many people on the street as there were during the day. They smiled when they saw the party of three. Clearly, they were familiar with Kili and Fili. Thorin watched them carefully to see if Kili singled out any of them. However, Kili spared brief waves and greetings to those he knew and gave most of his attention to asking the sort of tavern Thorin would like to go to. Following the only potential hint he had, he asked about those his soldiers frequented. He knew there must be more than a couple, but the evening had just begun. If this was to take all night, then so be it. Thorin was more than twice his nephew’s age, but he could still match them in spirit. He wouldn’t return to his chambers before he managed to determine whether Kili had truly fallen in love or not. With this resolve in mind, he followed his nephews to the first tavern, an establishment patronized by at least a dozen of warriors young and old. He settled on a table with Fili and Kili, called for drinks, and quietly observed.

Some of the old warriors Thorin recognized, but most of the younger ones he was unfamiliar with. All of them, regardless of experience, appearance and achievements, he instantly deemed unworthy of Kili’s heart. It wasn’t a matter of station—they lads’ own father had been a miner’s son, after all. He just thought they weren’t good enough for Kili. Just a short time of watching them when they were not on duty he could tell that they were too temperamental, too ill-mannered, too rough, too stubborn, too impatient. They were good soldiers, but they wouldn’t be an acceptable lover for Kili. No, he needed someone kinder, someone who shared his goodness and free spirit, someone as compassionate and cheerful as he was, someone who partook as little as possible in the ways of violence and deep-seated hatred, someone perfect, although there was no such a dwarf.

“Is this place not to your liking?” Kili asked, pulling him out of his deep thoughts.

Thorin turned to him and smiled at his worry. “I like it. It’s just been a while since I last went to taverns. I’m getting myself used to it again.”

Visibly relieved, Kili grinned. “You should come with us more often so you don’t have to get yourself reacquainted with it!”

“I’m sure Balin will approve your idea.” Thorin scoffed.

“If Mister Dwalin can get away with it, we surely can, too!”

Thorin shook his head fondly and noticed then that he was one sister-son short. He looked around him and found Fili at a different table, talking with some people while giving a nearby lass coy looks. The way he carried his flirting indicated his experience and the current object of his interest showed similar familiarity with this dance. This was how youthful romance was supposed to be, Thorin thought. It should be playful, lighthearted, exciting, and somewhat awkward. He watched Fili and the lass exchanged glances and smiles for a long while, before Fili strutted to her table to introduce himself. Thorin thought his gait was a little ridiculous, but the lass seemed to not mind it and in fact welcomed Fili with a smile and invitation to join her. There was clearly no intention to take this acquaintance more seriously, but while some would find this improper, Thorin saw this as the natural course of youth. Controlling his sister-sons for the purpose of modesty would only deny them the opportunity to grow into the adult they should be. Relationship, romantic or not, could be tricky. Let them learn how to start and maintain it, and if it failed, let them learn to fix it or mend themselves. These were fundamental skills one should learn in life.

Remembering the reason he went to the tavern in the first place, Thorin turned to Kili. “Won’t you join your brother?” he asked.

Kili looked to where Fili and his new friend were and laughed. “I think he doesn’t want interruption.”

Thorin chuckled in agreement. “You’re right. But, you don’t have to stay with me. I can entertain myself.”

“I’d much rather be with you,” Kili refused and brought his tankard to his lips to drink his ale thirstily.

“Don’t you have any friend here?” Thorin asked to encourage him to go so he could observe him.

“I do, but it’s rare that you come with us.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you from your friends. I know I’m a poor company.” Thorin chuckled when Kili cried out in protest. “Even Dwalin says so himself.”

“He cannot be serious! I love being with you!” Kili’s face turned a little red in his excitement. He grappled for words, not as eloquent as his brother was. “I mean I like talking and listening to you and accompanying you. You listen well and you have many interesting things to say and advices to share. Some people say you’re too severe, but you’ve often made me laugh so hard I can hardly breathe. You’re definitely not a poor company!”

“Am I, now?” Despite himself, Thorin was flattered. He was often under the impression that people only tolerated him because they had to. Even his own friends and family sometimes seemed to be at their limits with him. He hadn’t expected Kili to like being with him, since he was so different from Thorin, even widely acknowledged to be Thorin’s opposite. A flush of happiness spread through him and manifested in a joyful laugh. He was hard-pressed to keep from being too flustered, to remember who he was and what he couldn’t be. He was long past bitterness at this reflection and now simply rejoiced in the knowledge that he and Kili had the mutual pleasure of being in each other’s company.

“You are!” Kili asserted, face split into a wide grin.

“All right, if you insist,” Thorin finally said. “But don’t let me hold you back from your fun. If you wish to follow your brother’s example, I will not stop you.”

Kili narrowed his eyes at him. “I’m starting to think you want me to leave you alone.” Despite his best attempts to sound teasing, there was hurt in his voice that Thorin simply couldn’t ignore. Kili always, always aimed to please others. Any perceived rejection hurt him, although he recovered quickly to continue on his course to make others happy.

“Not at all. I just want you to live your life to the fullest, just as your brother there,” Thorin assured him, nodding to Fili’s direction.

“What makes you think I can’t live my life to the fullest by being with you?” Kili groused to his tankard. He huffed loudly, clearly unhappy, but too respectful to openly oppose Thorin. When he lifted his eyes again, he smile was too stilted to be true. “I thought you’d be happier that I decide to put my duties before pleasure.”

“I hope my company isn’t so terrible that you only tolerate it because of duty,” Thorin said, a little stung by Kili’s words.

Kili was quick to remedy himself. “That’s not what I mean at all! I just mean I don’t need or want any distraction from my duties! They keep me busy enough as they are!”

This pacified Thorin and gave him the opening he needed to learn more about his nephew’s life. Carefully, he measured Kili’s expression. “Is love a distraction?”

Kili hesitated to answer. “It could be. It could take one’s mind off what it should be focused on or take the time that should be devoted to important tasks. Or so, I imagine,” he quickly added. Too quickly, in fact, to be natural. Kili seemed to realize he had revealed too much as he became flustered and looked around for an escape.

So it was true. Kili’s heart had been claimed by someone. It would be a lie to say that Thorin’s heart was completely untouched by the revelation. No. The pain was cold and deep, a stab through his heart, and it ripped him apart. There was no bleeding wound, no tears spilt, but the pain was as real as that made by swords or axes. A door that was never truly open closed shut right before him. For a moment he felt lost and unsteady, as if the ground beneath his feet was gone, so strong was the force of a heart broken. He hadn’t realized the depth of his affection until it was clear that it wouldn’t be returned. However, the hurt was also a reminder of what Kili was going through. If he felt even a fraction of what Thorin was feeling, he must be quite miserable. He had put on such a brave face, but he must be suffering inside. Why he wouldn’t share it with anyone was unknown to Thorin. Nevertheless, Thorin immediately set aside his own interests to focus on Kili’s. Only one of them needed to bear this feeling and it would be Thorin.

Thorin put a hand on Kili’s arm, stilling him when he tried to leave the table. Once he had Kili’s anxious attention, he spoke with a comforting smile. “There isn’t only duty to your kingdom. There is also duty to your heart. To the best of your ability, you must follow both.”

Kili looked at him for a long time. His mouth moved wordlessly a few times as a secret tried to make itself known. Thorin forced himself to be patient and wait when his curiosity encouraged him to demand the truth out of Kili. It must be volunteered, not given unwillingly. His worries didn’t justify forcing Kili to say anything he didn’t want to say. So, Thorin arranged his expression into that of warm understanding, an expression he rarely displayed, yet came naturally when he faced Kili.

However, Kili then shrugged and looked away, dejection clear in his expression. “My mother often says that we don’t always get everything we want. I’m content with just serving our people and not my heart.”

Thorin should press more, but he couldn’t ignore the bitterness in Kili’s voice. The wound seemed too fresh still, bleeding in secret. It was so unlike Kili and the unexpectedness of it further proved its seriousness. This was love true, and it wasn’t returned. Knowing the pain well himself, Thorin’s heart ache for Kili, who he believed to deserve nothing short of happiness. If only there was a way to share the pain or trade their places, he would do it immediately. He wouldn’t mind bearing the pain of two hearts broken. His heart was hardened when Kili’s was still tender. He could survive it with but a few deep scars, but Kili’s unguarded heart might take more damage than that. There was hope in Kili’s determination to continue his life as normal, unrequited love or not, but Thorin was still dismayed to see him upset.

Studying Kili, Thorin considered his next course of action. While still curious about the identity of the dwarf Kili had fallen for, it seemed to matter little now. Let the cruel warrior enjoy his heartlessness. Thorin would make him answer for this one day, but for now Thorin would direct his attention to his lovesick sister-son. Comforting words would be ignored, as Kili was clearly reluctant to discuss the matter. Thorin was not as entertaining as he was, either. He was unused to making jokes, performing arts, and telling stories to relief misery. Regardless of Kili’s vehement defense on his behalf, Dwalin was right to call Thorin a poor companion. All he could offer were boredom and grief (and a little offense when the mood struck), neither of which Kili needed at the moment. However, he couldn’t leave Kili to dwell on his misfortune alone. As poor as his companionship was, since it was all he had, he would offer it to Kili until his pain passed.

Kili almost jumped when Thorin patted his back. “If you insist on accompanying me, you must drink with me.”

A grin slowly spread on Kili’s face as Thorin called for more drinks. “Shall we get drunk tonight?” he asked excitedly. “I’ve never seen you drunk.”

Thorin smirked. “Perhaps you will tonight.”

Kili didn’t leave him for even a minute that night. They drank and ate and talked for an eternity while patrons came and went around them. Before they knew it, they had been left behind by their companion, Fili having left the tavern with his new friend. Kili laughed when Thorin pointed this out to him. He complimented his brother’s unfailing charm and wished him the best of times. There was no trace of longing in his demeanor, nor a drop of envy or resignation. It was a testament to his cheerful disposition that he appeared nothing less than happy when reminded how his love ended prematurely. Thorin admired him for a moment, but looked away before Kili became aware of his attention. They talked and drank until well past midnight, when Kili swayed on his feet and Thorin fared only slightly better. They clung to each other as they made their way back to the mountain. Holding Kili safe and close to him, Kili’s warmth seeping through their clothes and his merry laughter filling the air, Thorin vainly hoped that happiness would stay with Kili forever.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This feels like a short but long chapter. Or maybe that's because I edit this while dead tired. I hope you like this!

Fili wasn’t happy when Thorin ordered him to stop prying into his brother’s love life. Although he said nothing, Thorin knew he loathed not knowing something so important in Kili’s life since they shared almost everything. However, Thorin firmly believed that they should help Kili heal rather than aggravating his wound further. The lad had hurt enough—they had both seen his poems. Often love blinded its subjects from the world beyond them and their lover. The identity of Kili’s beloved came second to easing the pain he had borne in silence. He had been remarkably strong up to now, but he must be reminded that he would not be on his own should his feelings overcome him. He would have friends and family to keep him strong, to provide him with company, to comfort him, to give him love when he had been denied it. When Thorin said this to Fili, he quickly agreed and promised to apologize for his previous mockeries as to convince Kili to allow him to ease his broken heart.

This was where Thorin envied Fili. If only he was as good and charming as his nephew. Whenever he watched Fili make Kili smile and laugh, Thorin wished he could take his place. But, he knew his attempts at comfort would fail. He had only succeeded previously with the aid of alcohol and Kili’s sweetness. Without the two, he knew he stood no chance in cheering Kili. The lad had been kind enough to claim that he liked his company, but Thorin knew he liked his brother’s a lot more. While Thorin gave him more attention than usual, he decided that it was best to leave the part of a comforting and entertaining company to Fili. Thorin would find other ways to cheer him without risking making Kili suffer his temper.

But, how should he do it? Thorin, despite decades of learning and practicing diplomacy, never quite know his way around people. He knew his manners and the implications of a king’s actions and words. Thorin was well-versed in political talks, but he was inexperienced when it came to private matters. He was admittedly rather sheltered—even his friends were carefully selected from dwarf families of certain stations. While he fully trusted some of them, he carefully minded himself around most. Dis was better at this and Frerin had been too, long ago. They were unburdened by the weight of expectations and thus had greater freedom to make mistakes among their peers, thus gaining necessary knowledge on how to navigate people when Thorin only learnt how to get what most benefitted him and his kingdom. When he was much younger, he would seek Dis’ counsel on his relations. As he grew older and prouder, he sought advice instead from his mother as his father and grandfather shared his disposition. But, his mother hadn’t been with them for many decades now and he couldn’t ask Dis because he knew she would then fret about her son and Dis could be even worse than Thorin when it came to spoiling Kili.

No, this was something Thorin must find out on his own. He had given Kili his occasional (poor) company and close attention, but he felt that something more was needed. Never mind that he thought he could never give Kili enough. He must do more if he wished to fully banish misery from Kili’s heart. Should he send gifts, then? Weapons, furs, silks, ponies, and fiddles Kili already had aplenty, although there was always room for more. Perhaps jewelries? Thorin knew Kili oddly had little interest in them, but maybe the sight of them could cheer him a little. Had he perhaps any need for other items? Thorin could summon his attendants for some intelligence. The servants would talk again about his unfair partiality, but it was a small price to pay if it would please Kili. Thorin had a couple casks of wine sent from Iron Hills by his cousin, Dain. He could tell one of his attendants to send a few bottles to Kili later.

There were so many things he could give- _would_ give, but nothing seemed adequate. Thorin cursed his exile. If he were the dwarf king of Erebor, he would have the world to offer. Nothing would be off limit, nothing unaffordable. If it was luxury Kili desired, Thorin would give it to him trifold. If it were power he asked for, Thorin would give him mountain, land, river, and forest of his choosing. If it was a lover he wished for… Here Thorin’s mind faltered for a moment, but was soon bolstered by his deep affection. Kili should only mention a name and Thorin would condescend to ask for his interest to be returned. After all, he had no hope for himself. What was a little more scar to his heart? Yes. How much he would be able to give Kili were he the king of the Lonely Mountain.

_A king he was on carven throne_

_In many-pillared halls of stone_

_With golden roof and silver floor,_

_And runes of power upon the door._

_The light of sun and star and moon_

_In shining lamps of crystal hewn_

_Undimmed by cloud or shade of night_

_There shone for ever fair and bright._

_There hammer on the anvil smote,_

_There chisel clove, and graver wrote,_

_There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;_

_The delver mined, the mason built,_

_There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,_

_And metal wrought like fishes’ mail,_

_Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,_

_And shining spears were laid in hoard._

_Unwearied then were Durin’s folk;_

_Beneath the mountains music woke:_

_The harpers harped, the minstrels sang_

_And at the gates the trumpets rang._

Thorin often—too often—dreamt of himself as a true dwarf king, but his fear of failure, of following after his grandfather’s doomed footsteps kept his fantasies in check. He pictured instead his grandfather, the famed king with a vault of gold and the brilliant gem that was the Arkenstone, but he pictured Thror before the dragon sickness got to him. How Thorin had admired him, the wise and great king. How proud he had been when he was finally allowed to stand beside his throne to learn the ways of kings. How happy he had been, a prince to a great dwarf kingdom with everything at his disposal and only his loyalty to his people the cost to pay for it all. Now his heirs couldn’t enjoy what he had had once upon a time and his beloved couldn’t be lavished as Thorin wished him to be.

“Thorin! I didn’t think I’d see you here!” Kili exclaimed as he appeared suddenly at the balcony Thorin had occupied. He smiled wide at the sight of Thorin and came to sit down beside him uninvited. But then why would he need any invitation when his company Thorin ceaselessly longed for? “You’re usually still in your study at this hour.”

“You’re usually already on your way to the tavern at this hour,” Thorin countered, perhaps too sharply as Kili looked a little sheepish in response. He internally rebuked himself and tried to soften his words. “The dusk is beautiful from here.” Thorin nodded to the orange sun that tilted increasingly to the west. The sky was almost entirely clear but for stray bits of cloud. Shades of red and yellow graced everything he and Kili could see, darkening, darkening as seconds passed in silence. The day was slowly, beautifully tuned into night. The slowing of the hectic pace was keenly felt. Thorin felt it in the cooling stones of the Blue Mountain and his own slowing heartbeats. The view wasn’t the only thing that brought on this effect, of course. He glanced sidelong at his company and smiled wistfully to himself.

Kili, naturally, couldn’t keep his quietness forever. “I was going to join Fili, but I’m glad I went here first to see whether you’re still working,” he said, trying and failing to keep his voice hushed.

“How very attentive of you.” The words could be taken as a barb, but Thorin made sure to keep his tone only slightly teasing. “Did you plan to help me?”

“If you needed me to.” Kili laughed. “Although I would have to ask to leave early to make sure Fili finds his way home!”

Thorin scoffed. “From what I’ve seen, he seems more than capable of finding a place to stay for the night.”

Kili laughed merrily while nodding vigorously in agreement. “Is that for Dain?” he asked when he saw the paper in Thorin’s hand. “You know he doesn’t like to be kept waiting for replies.”

Thorin scoffed. “No, unless he cares for poems. He must wait a little longer—his letter has just arrived this morning, after all.”

“A poem? Did you write it” Now Kili looked at the paper with great interest. Thorin could see that he wanted to take it from his hand, but held back.

Thorin was going to confirm when he spotted the folded paper Kili had in his hand. His unasked question was answered when Kili immediately tried to hide it, red-faced. Morbid curiosity assailed him. Although by now Thorin was certain that Kili was well and truly in love, he couldn’t resist the chance of learning more about Kili’s thoughts, even if it might hurt himself in the process. “You may read mine if you would let me read yours.”

Kili hesitated, eyes drifting to Thorin’s work with undisguised curiosity. “It’s not good,” he tried half-heartedly.

“I doubt it. You’ve vastly improved in your lesson.”

The compliment brought a sparkle of pride in Kili’s eyes. He puffed out his chest. “Do you think so?” he asked in excitement. When Thorin nodded, he grinned widely. “I do try, though I think you’d agree that Fili is better.” He looked at the paper in his hand, thinking hard. “It’s rather un-dwarf-like and un-princely. I don’t want to be made fun of.”

“When did I ever make fun of you?”

Thorin never did. He might laugh at Kili’s antics as they were some of his greatest joys in life, but he always appreciated his efforts. Kili might fail sometimes, but Thorin knew he had the best intentions at heart. Tension seeped out of Kili as he realized this and he nodded slowly in agreement to Thorin’s terms. “Let me read yours first!”

Confident in his work, Thorin handed him his poem. Kili took it eagerly and immediately read it. Thorin watched as his curiosity and delight turned into thoughtfulness that finally gave way to solemnity. This made him smile. Many had accused Kili of childishness, but they were wrong. Thorin had seen himself that he was capable of seriousness and deep thoughts, although he usually left them for his brother. He displayed them at the moment. There was no trace of good humor he had shown earlier. Once he knew that Thorin’s poem was about Erebor, he was all respect and somberness. He knew this was no laughing matter, especially to Thorin, and he gave both Erebor and Thorin the reverence they deserved. When Kili lifted his eyes to meet Thorin’s, Thorin was struck by the warm kindness and sympathy there when he was often met with doubt, resignation, exasperation or pity. It was as if Kili understood, or at the very least wanting to try to understand. How anyone could not love the lad was beyond him.

“Every time I hear or read about Erebor, it seems more beautiful than the last,” Kili mused.

“It is beautiful beyond compare,” Thorin returned, although he wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about: Erebor or Kili.

“I can’t really imagine,” Kili admitted, looking back down to the paper he was still holding. When he looked up again, he grinned at Thorin. “But you’ll show me, won’t you?”

The complete trust and confidence truly flattered Thorin and encouraged him if ever he doubted his plans. He should give a careful answer, not raise the lad’s hope for nothing was for certain, but he couldn’t. He had his own personal reasons to pursue the dream of reclaiming Erebor. Pleasing Kili was an additional motivation, and a strong one, too. Perhaps he shouldn’t wonder about Kili’s fixation upon the heartless warrior after all, since Thorin was afflicted with the same desire to give his beloved the utmost happiness he could provide for nothing in return. “You will be beside me when I walk through those great doors once more,” he promised.

Kili’s grin widened and his eyes sparkled in excitement, a lovely sight Thorin must look away from lest he uncovered his secret. “I can hardly wait. What an adventure that will be to go there, defeat the dragon and reclaim our rights!”

“A dangerous adventure,” Thorin cautioned despite being infected by Kili’s enthusiasm all the same. “You have travelled with the guards. You should know this,” he chastised.

However, Kili was in too good a mood to feel too regretful for his overexcitement. “I do, but it will be different, won’t it? You won’t prepare a journey back to Erebor as you prepare a travel to the Iron Hills.”

On this, Thorin couldn’t deny. He tried to be stern, but he knew Kili could see how pleased he was with Kili’s faith in his judgment and leadership. “Nevertheless, there is more danger out there than I can count. That’s why you mustn’t neglect your training.”

“I never do!”

“I know.”

Wearing the mask of an attentive uncle and demanding king, he had observed Kili. How many hours had he spent supposedly overseeing his soldiers when his eyes were fixed on only one dwarf? Or supervising lessons only to hear a certain nephew’s voice and see his smiles? The answer embarrassed him, a dwarf far too old for such juvenile infatuation. But, Thorin wasn’t made of stone or steel or mithril, he was flesh and bone with a stubborn heart that demanded love and bent him to take every opportunity available to satisfy its craving. Perhaps it made him weak, but he believed Kili was strong enough to cover what he lacked. A glance down to the folded paper in Kili’s hand reminded him of his place, however. Kili’s heart belonged to another.

“Now let me read your poem,” Thorin said, nodding to the paper.

Kili’s excitement very visibly diminished and was replaced by apprehension. He didn’t argue as he had agreed to Thorin’s terms, but he was still clearly reluctant to show his work. He frowned at the paper in his hand, perhaps thinking about the words written there or considering the merits of maintaining secrecy. Thorin didn’t rush him, but he waited expectantly, refusing to be moved by affection and pity. After weeks of concern and curiosity, he looked forward to relieving himself from both. The possibility of giving himself away didn’t quite occur to him. Thorin had had decades of practice, after all. Whatever pain he might feel would only let itself be known in private. Even if any discerning eye noticed it, he was well-versed in lies. Thorin smiled in satisfaction and reassurance when Kili finally handed him his poem. Without wasting a moment since the light had started to die around them, Thorin began to read.

_Not one is filled with madness like to mine_

_In all the taverns! My soiled robe lies here,_

_There my neglected book, both pledged for wine._

_With dust my heart is thick, that should be clear,_

_A glass to mirror forth the great king’s face;_

_One ray of light from out his dwelling place_

_To pierce my night and draw me near._

_Red wine I worship, and I worship him—_

_Speak not to me of anything beside,_

_For nought but these on earth I care about._

Thorin’s heart stuttered and skipped a beat. He reread the poem, unsure if his old eyes had deceived him. Surely it could not be what he thought, what he still hoped for in his heart of heart. Kili must have meant something else, someone else. It was a poem. It had many turns of words to make it beautiful to read. Thorin must have only deceived himself. It was with unexpectedly great effort that he maintained neutrality of his expression when he lifted his head. He tried to tell himself that he was only fooling himself, but Kili’s wide eyes cultivated a seed of hope within him. Yes, there was embarrassment in his face, but most of all, Thorin noted panic, frantic turns of his mind as he made excuses.

“This warrior of yours….” Thorin began.

“He’s not real! Kili quickly and loudly said. “It’s just fiction!”

This offered no cure to Thorin’s wanting heart. He read the poem again. His mind was flooded with everything he had known about Kili’s secret love. Thorin knew that he was a warrior, one Kili feared might kill him just for thinking about him. But, who would dare threaten a prince and who was _able_ to harm one of Thorin’s best warriors? Only one of greater station and experience than he would be able to do both. _The great king_. The words drew Thorin’s attention again and again. It could not be, yet it made sense, yet he must not presume, yet still he hoped.

“That’s obviously not true. Don’t worry. It doesn’t bother me. I’m only angry that someone makes you unhappy.” Thorin said, firmly reminding himself of who he was: an uncle, a mentor, a leader, a stubborn scarred dwarf. Kili couldn’t possibly want him.

“Well, it can’t be helped,” Kili said after swallowing thickly, his expression conflicted. “I can’t force anyone’s heart. It’s all right, really! You don’t have to worry!”

Kili made to take back his poem, but Thorin wasn’t ready to part from it yet. He moved the paper out of Kili’s reach and shook his head. “It’s difficult to not be when you’ve been unhappy for too long.”

Kili made an exasperated sound and scowled. “I have been for far longer than you know, but I’m quite all right, am I not?” he argued.

“Tell me about him,” Thorin demanded firmly. If he was wrong, let his foolish heart be silenced once and for all.

Kili shook his head and pursed his lips resolutely. “There’s nothing I can say about him.”

“Then I’m forced to assume the worst, that he is a volatile warrior who threatens and ignores you for your regards for him.”

Despite his protestations and secrecy, Kili was unable to let his beloved be presumed to be the worst of character. “He’s not so bad!” he cried. “He never threatens or treats me poorly. Any pain I feel is my own making, not his!”

“You wrote that you fear that he will kill you.”

“It was just an exaggeration. He won’t.” Kili shrugged lamely, giving away his doubt. “At least I think he won’t. I know he won’t be happy.” He sighed, a heavy exhalation full of frustration. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Finally, Thorin relinquished the paper, handing it back to Kili. He watched as Kili folded it into a small piece and resolutely put it in his pocket. From the look of his face, it would be destroyed later. The thought of it—the evidence, the clue of Kili’s beloved being destroyed didn’t sit well at all with Thorin. Should he force Kili to give it back or to say once and for all who the mysterious dwarf was? The greed within Thorin’s veins demanded to have everything it desired, but the compassion he had learnt from experience and the love he had gained unexpectedly kept him from such rashness. Instead he offered, “If there’s something you want to help you with your issue, ask me and you will have it.”

At first, Kili seemed upset by it, almost offended even. He frowned at Thorin in a way that had scared many less brave people away. Thorin stood his ground, however, and saw how the anger transformed into thoughtfulness and indecision. Thorin couldn’t tell precisely what request he was considering, but he recognized softness in his expression, something vulnerable Thorin had never seen before. Thorin’s heart began to throb in his chest. It ached with hope even as logic reminded him of the unlikeliness of his desired reply—why would a sweet-tempered dwarf like Kili want a hardened dwarf like Thorin? It could not be.

“There’s nothing I want,” Kili said determinedly. The dwarf before Thorin now was one of his best soldiers, strong-minded and firm. In the low light there was no way to tell whether there still was warmth in his eyes for Thorin, who fancied he heard gentleness in his voice still. “I can live with this.”

He shouldn’t have to, Thorin couldn’t help but think. He didn’t have to, his hopes whispered in his mind. “Your brother, I believe, will be more than willing to provide company should you need it.” He paused, considering his chances. His odds were poor, but hadn’t they always been so? Here he was, a displaced king of a new colony that prospered almost to rival his old home when he could have been charred by the dragon’s fire or a beggar depending on the mercy of the ungrateful. There was always a possibility, always a hope no matter how dim, and once again he couldn’t resist seizing it. “If it is me, you want, you only need to ask.”

Something stirred beneath the steel. Molten hot center rose to the surface and Kili moved. It was only a fraction, but Thorin saw it. His hand twitched as if to reach out. When he looked at Thorin, even in the dying light of the day Thorin recognized longing, brief yet intense, tearing his mask of studied indifference for one moment. It disappeared in a flash, but it had been there. Thorin was sure of it as sure as he was for the love he had kept quiet. Hope didn’t afflict only Thorin, but also moved Kili as if he was a puppet on strings. What was it he wanted to reach out and hold? Thorin quietly, fervently wished he would obey his desires and relieve Thorin of this suspense. However, Kili quickly controlled himself and looked away from Thorin. “I’ll keep that in mind. You mustn’t be angry if I bother you to join me in the tavern sometimes.”

Thorin only grunted in reply, mind too full of wishful thinking. He watched Kili stand up and excuse himself. Thorin let him as the both of them needed time alone after the conversation. Kili quickly left the balcony, perhaps for fear of him changing his mind. A moment later, a guard came to light torches to bathe the balcony in yellow light. Soon, Thorin was left alone with his thoughts, all of which inevitably centered around Kili. He thought of the time he spent with Kili, the way he behaved around him, the words he quickly corrected, the devotion he failed to hide. In his arrogance and ignorance he had dismissed them as signs of loyalty. If perhaps there was affection, he had immediately presumed it to be familial in nature. But, he saw now a possibility of feelings that ran deeper than they should, desire that demanded to be indulged, relief from a secret yearning, longing Thorin knew all too intimately. He could be wrong, of course. There was little reason for his suspicion to turn out correct, for Kili to want a difficult dwarf such as him. If this was true maybe it was merely a temporary infatuation rather than the deep lasting love Thorin harbored for him. He must be sensible, refrain from having too much hope, and let this go. Still, Thorin dearly, deeply, desperately wished Kili loved him back.

* * *

Love was a danger people couldn’t and wouldn’t stop seeking. Its fruits were sweet in moderation, but in excess it became fatal madness and a mysterious debility whose victim desired no cure. Though he only experienced it later in life, from young age he had been able to recognize the red flame of desire and softness of affection. He saw it in eyes that followed, minds that wandered, lips that curled just so, words that softened, touches that lingered. Love swayed the lovers’ natures, made their reasons submit, and subdued their will. How easy it would be to pierce and break them, although they were often more than capable of distressing themselves through their lovers. Thorin was neither selfish nor foolish enough to urge anyone to avoid it, however. Love was a gift and where it created weakness, it also generated new strength to balance it. He had seen it used to protect and care, to give and serve. There was no force, no people stronger than the lovers, and so Thorin wished it for his people.

For himself, Thorin wished very little. When love was bestowed to him much later in life, he hadn’t expected it, but neither had he rejected it. From the second he was aware of it, he realized the wrongness of his affection—to desire his young nephew was simply unacceptable in every way. So, from the start Thorin was resigned to unfulfilled yearning and secret keeping. Over half a century had passed with no one suspecting his favoritism toward one nephew. Neither had anyone questioned the ease and frequency of his touches on Kili. His turn of attitudes around Kili was readily dismissed as that of a doting uncle. No one knew his pain whenever he remembered that his most loved one would forever be denied from him. No one saw his happiness when he received even a hint of affection and attention. No one realized his despair as he dreamt and wished for a love just out of his reach when he was alone in his chambers at night. To Thorin, love was more deeply hidden and hotter than coals. It wasn’t at all what he would wish for anyone, but if that was all he could have, he would accept it without complaint.

It never occurred to him that his love might be returned. Even now he had difficulty convincing himself that there was the barest chance of it at all. But, there was. And it wasn’t a tiny glimmer of hope, a figment of desperate imagination, imagining brought on by decades of longing, either. The evidence—the poems, his conversations with Kili, the time they spent together, Kili’s reaction when inquired about his beloved—overwhelmed and pointed toward him, toward _Thorin_. He couldn’t tell why this might be the case, although it mattered little when his own reason for loving Kili was no more than because he was _Kili_ , who was imperfect and troublemaking and entirely wrong for him. Yet Thorin loved him. Yet his love only grew over time. The impossible (and improper) sometimes happened. Perhaps Kili loved him.

Sense prohibited him from taking action. The repercussions for this forbidden love would not be light for either of them. People might accept Thorin and Kili taking male lovers, but they would be far less accepting of them loving each other. Indeed perhaps it was far more merciful for them both if Thorin didn’t pursue this subject, pretended he never saw or said a thing and waited until they both forgot this ever happened at all. Pain, Thorin was used to and he was sure Kili’s whims and nature would distract him with all sorts of pleasures. They should let this pass, so that it might be no more than a bittersweet memory to be looked upon fondly in many years to come.

But, Thorin would not forget. The idea had taken such hold of him that he couldn’t sleep easy at night. When he closed his eyes he saw only Kili’s smiles. His dreams were so filled with fantasy of happy life shared with Kili that when Thorin woke to find himself alone, the lonesomeness pained him. His waking hours were no better. Now proximity to Kili was doubly torturous temptation. Every expression, every gesture, every word, every glance were now more nuanced than ever before. The fortress Thorin had built around his heart and the scar tissues that had reinforced it stood no chance against his growing hope. Try as Thorin might to dismiss the possibility of them as lovers, he failed and he knew even if he were to try for decades more, he would not achieve better success. Thorin couldn’t speak for Kili, but to him there was only one solution to this: Reasons be damned, he must take the chance to be Kili’s lover.

How he should do it required some thoughts. The affair, whatever the outcome might be, required discretion he had never had to employ before. With his previous lovers, Thorin had openly showered them with gifts and attention before he made clear his intentions. There was no one he had had to hide his interest from. Not so this time. He had to be careful as to not ruin either his or Kili’s reputations. There could be no courtship, although even if there could be, Thorin didn’t know what he could offer that he hadn’t already given Kili. Moreover, what part of his character Kili hadn’t known yet that he needed to learn about? There was only one thing left to do: that was to declare their feelings to and for each other. Well, for _Thorin_ to declare his feelings for Kili, rather. It was clear that despite accusations of thoughtlessness, Kili was wise enough to not take the risk of asking Thorin’s heart for himself. Would he apply the same sensibility to Thorin’s confession? Thorin didn’t know and he knew no better of what answer he should want.

Privacy was of absolute necessity, not only to avoid talks and condemnation, but also to provide freedom from humiliation should Kili keep his wits about him and reject Thorin. Thorin resisted the idea of approaching Kili’s in his rooms, not wanting to corner him as a hunter would its prey. He didn’t want to summon Kili to his study or his chambers, either, as to avoid the impression that his desires were orders. A neutral setting it had to be and Thorin chose it carefully. He knew that on days Fili was occupied by princely duties, Kili would go to a small hill south of Ered Luin to enjoy nature and the view of the busy city. That was where he went to when he heard that Balin required Fili’s assistance on certain official affairs. Thorin quickly finished his urgent businesses and put aside those that could wait for his undivided attention. His primary concern at the moment was to be at the hill before Kili did because such significant moment required thoughtfulness and care Thorin admittedly didn’t always have.

The hill was fortunately deserted when he got there. Thorin took the quiet moment to calm his pounding heart and reminded himself of his plan. He slipped his hand into his coat to touch a piece of parchment he had carefully stored there. He almost blushed at the thought of its content, but he had resolved on admitting his feelings for Kili and as his spoken words often failed him, he knew he had better chance to get his feeling across by writing them. How many hours he had spent on evenings trying to convey his deep regards as accurately as possible! Even as a youth prone to infatuation to every pretty thing that caught his eyes, he had never had such dedication. But, he was a youth no more and this wasn’t mere infatuation. Thorin thought maybe that was why he had spent so long writing the poem—because his feelings were mature, unmistakably recognized through and strengthened by decades of experience. He felt so much and so intensely that an entire book would not be enough to properly describe his feelings. He could only hope that a simple poem would show Kili at least a fraction of it.

Thorin was contemplating the beautiful sight of Ered Luin set against yellowing hills and mountains and peaceful river when he heard the sounds of hoofs beating the ground. His heart picked up its speed, pulsing against the hidden parchment, as he strained his ears and kept his eyes to the view before him. Only when he heard the sound of Kili’s coat flapping in the passing wind did he turn around. The shock and joy that lit up Kili’s face at the sight of him gave rise to his hope, but he quickly tempered it. He would not burden Kili with excessive hope—they were already quite burdened by the responsibilities of their blood, after all.

“I hope I’m not interrupting!” Kili said eagerly even as he made his way to Thorin.

“I’m just enjoying the view.” Thorin smiled when Kili sat down beside him, pleased with how at ease Kili was around him. Their conversation at the balcony had been as good as forgotten as soon as the morning came. To some, this would paint a picture of whimsicality, but Thorin knew it only illustrated Kili’s tolerant nature. Were it himself, Thorin knew his defensiveness would lead him to avoid Kili for days until the worry and shame subsided.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It deserves to be painted, I think.” Kili said, turning his admiring eyes to the scenery.

Thorin smiled wider. He had long since noticed that he and Kili thought alike and now it fed his hopes despite his best efforts. “I was just thinking the very same. I should send someone here to paint it. Balin’s apprentice is a gifted artist, I heard.”

“Ori is!” Kili confirmed excitedly. “He should come on summer. It’s even more beautiful at that time of the year!” He laughed. “I’ve been thinking of painting it for a long while, but you know how I’m not gifted in arts.”

“Except for poetry that is.” Before Kili’s expression could turn into discomfort, Thorin reached into his coat and produced the parchment. Now his heart was absolutely pounding, but he had faced worse prospects with composure and he was determined that he would do the same this time. Although, he must allow that never before had his heart been at stake. His body could be mended, his people saved, his kingdom reclaimed, but what was to be done with a heart given away and rejected? Still, it was now too late to take it back. “I wrote something and I’m in need of your opinion.”

Kili’s eyes instantly sparkled with returned excitement. He took the proffered parchment quickly, as if worried that Thorin might change his mind. “It must be wonderful! I’ve only ever read one of yours, of course, but it was magnificent!”

Thorin didn’t say anything. Anxiety threatened to make his heart burst, but his years had given him better control of himself. Whatever his hopes were, he would give nothing away but understanding. Instead, he occupied himself with watching Kili’s countenance as he read the poem in silence, eyes darting over the written words. He wished Kili would read it out loud and grant him the pleasure of hearing his feelings from his lips. But, Thorin already memorized every word by heart and in his mind he could hear Kili recite them clearly as if he truly read them loudly.

_Reason says, “I will beguile him with the tongue;" Love says, "Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul."_

_The soul says to the heart, "Go, do not laugh at me and yourself. What is there that is not his, that I may beguile him thereby?"_

_He is not sorrowful and anxious and seeking oblivion that I may beguile him with wine and a heavy measure._

_The arrow of his glance needs not a bow that I should beguile the shaft of his gaze with a bow._

_He is not prisoner of the world, fettered to this world of earth, that I should beguile him with gold of the kingdom of the world._

_Hair by hair he sees my crookedness and feigning; what’s hidden from him that I should beguile him with anything hidden._

_He is not a seeker of fame, a prince addicted to poets, that I should beguile him with verses and lyrics and flowing poetry._

Kili hadn’t mastered controlling his expression as well as Thorin had. His shock was plain to see in the widening of his eyes and slackness of his jaw. His brows furrowed slightly as he read the poem again, his disbelief palpable to Thorin’s keen eyes. When he finally lifted his eyes to meet Thorin’s, his smile lacked the cheerful quality he usually embodied. He was restraining himself. From what, Thorin could only guess, although he hoped it was the same longing that was coursing his veins and setting his heart afire.

“Who’s this dwarf you’re trying to beguile?” Even his voice was unsteady, a testament of how affected he was by what he had just read.

Thorin nodded to the parchment still in his hands. “A dwarf prince.”

Kili was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was small, almost pained. “Fili?”

The thought of taking Fili as a lover had never occurred to Thorin. From the start, it was clear to him that his affection for his nephew was solely familial. Kili’s hazarding guess only served to reinforce this sentiment and underline the difference between his loves for his sister-sons. One he regarded as his beloved successor and the other as a lover he longed for. If he needed further confirmation of his feelings for Kili (and he didn’t), here it was. “He’s my heir. No.”

A small relief appeared on Kili’s face, although he was tense still. He read the poem again, brows furrowing more and more deeply. “Not a Durin’s Folk, then? Though I know little of other royal dwarves.”

“He is a Durin’s Folk,” Thorin corrected him gently.

“But…”

Tired of this game, Thorin quickly interjected. “It’s you.”

Kili stared at him with wide eyes. His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Me? But why?” he exclaimed finally.

Thorin scoffed. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough for him to explain. There were so many attributes that made Kili enchanting to his eyes, uncountable moments that made him fall over and over again. When he saw that his reaction made Kili’s face fall, he quickly gestured to the poem. “I’ve written some of the reasons there.” When Kili floundered for words, he continued. “I can’t and won’t force you to return my feelings. Although your poems and your behaviors have led me to believe you have some affection for me, you may correct me if my assumption is wrong. If so, I won’t hold it against you and you won’t hear about this subject from me ever again.”

Now that he had said everything he had to say, Thorin waited in silence for Kili’s reply. His heart strangely calmed, his previous anxiety almost completely gone. Before Kili he had laid out his heart and he expected nothing more than to hear Kili’s answer. Thorin’s hope remained—few things would make him happier than to hear Kili loved him in return—but should Kili decided not to have him as a lover, he would not be overly upset. Yes, his heart would be broken, but he would survive it as he had survived decades of hopeless love. Truly, it should not be Kili’s concern. He must only think of his own happiness. Thorin watched silently as Kili frowned at his poem thoughtfully for long minutes. Confusion was written all over face, but that was to be expected for a statement of this significance.

As a matter of fact, Thorin was pleased that he thought of the confession carefully rather following his whimsical emotions as he often did. This way, he was less likely to regret his decision later on, something which Thorin never wished to happen. Of course there was a chance that he might still change his mind later, but at least there was less risk of so now. Even if that were to happen, Thorin would let it happen. It was strange, he thought, how merely the act of admitting his affection and intention had pleased him, how he expected so little in return. He always thought himself greedy and selfish. He constantly feared how deeply those inherent flaws had gripped him. Yet now he truly cared little of what he could get from Kili and more concerned about what he would give. And he promised to give Kili anything he asked for which was within Thorin’s power to provide.

“Food, dance, songs, and companionship.”

Thorin blinked in confusion. He studied Kili’s expression to determine whether this was one of his jokes, but saw that he was entirely serious. “I don’t understand.”

A grin mischievous and endearing spread on Kili’s face. “It says here that there’s nothing you can do to beguile me. Food, dance, songs, and your company, that’s how you can beguile me.”

Thorin narrowed his eyes as he tried to suppress the smile threatening to break on his face. He could tell that he failed, however. He could feel warmth reaching his eyes from his soul, tension leaving his body, happiness enveloping his entire being. “Don’t tempt me to have you head, lad.”

Kili laughed happily, loudly, freely, as if he just now could finally breathe. Thorin realized then how well and truly he had hidden his feelings before, yearning alone, certain that his love would never be returned. Understanding very well how Kili had felt, Thorin boldly cup the nape of his neck, his thumb drawing circles on Kili’s soft skin. The look Kili gave him was unlike anything he had ever seen before. Although Kili often looked at him in awe and fondness, he had never looked quite so tender and open as he did at the moment. If Thorin didn’t know his strength, he might be convinced that Kili had become weak. This wasn’t weakness, however. Love wasn’t weakness. It was complete and utter trust that one’s lover wouldn’t harm or let harm befall him. It was a vow to do the very same. It was a power to be reckoned with, and Thorin was brimming with it.

“I hope you know I will never harm you,” he said.

“I know.” Kili paused to think and shrugged lightly, careful not to dislodge Thorin’s hand. “I suppose I wasn’t sure before. I was so scared you would find me repulsive. I didn’t like to think what you would’ve done to me if you had,” he admitted.

Thorin wished he could dispute Kili’s past worry, but he couldn’t. He knew his temper. Had he not loved Kili back, he would send Kili away to be ignored for the rest of his days, his affection only great enough to keep him from physically harming Kili. Kili wouldn’t fade from a broken heart, but neither would he truly live. “You will never have to worry about it again,” Thorin promised him.

“I hope not. I hope whenever I upset you, your anger passes quickly.” He grinned at Thorin. “I know I can’t hope for you to never be angry with me.”

Thorin huffed and slowly released him, although his touch lingered, lightly caressing what was no longer denied from him. “I promised to be good to you and you promised me mischief in return.”

Kili laughed. “Well, I do know myself very well. Even quite a bit better than I know you, I dare say!”

Thorin shook his head in amusement. “I suppose I will be disappointed if you’re altered completely, as much as you do test me sometimes.”

“Is this a permission to keep annoying you in the future?” Kili asked, half joking and half hopeful.

It was telling that he found everything wrong in Kili to be charming. Even his flaws and the ways they didn’t perfectly align with each other only endeared him to Thorin. And he knew this wouldn’t change unless to deepen, to grow ever more, to last until his breaths left him at last. But, these would take a long time to explain and Thorin had many plans for them he’d like to realize now that he could. “No,” he said simply despite knowing Kili would ignore this completely. He stood up and offered Kili a hand. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Kili asked even as he took Thorin’s hand. Thorin was pleased that even after he pushed himself to his feet, Kili still wouldn’t let go.

“To the tavern,” he replied, giving Kili a smirk. “I plan to beguile you with food, music, dance and my company.”

From the way Kili laughed and looked at him, Thorin was certain he was quite beguiled already. His eyes briefly drifted to Kili’s lips. He wished to taste the sweetness that he had previously only dreamt of, enjoy what he thought he would never have. However, there was love-making to be done and Thorin wanted more than anything to be Kili’s lover proper. Kissing and intimacy must wait. Thorin pulled Kili toward their waiting ponies. It was a little early for a visit to the tavern, but they had much make up for. They had wasted enough time incorrectly assuming their feelings were unrequited. Thorin was determined not to waste any more second. As Kili all but led him to a race to the tavern, throwing a happy look at Thorin over his shoulder every so often as if he didn’t want to take his eyes off him, Thorin believed Kili felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many notes to make. Firstly, Thorin's poem is by [Tolkien himself](http://www.poetseers.org/poets/j-r-r-tolkien-poems/durin/index.html). Then, Kili's poem is [Hafiz's](https://www.poetseers.org/the-poetseers/hafiz/hafiz-poems-gertrude-bell/with-madness-like-to-mine/index.html) which I've altered a little to fit the fic. The last poem is by [Rumi](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7265413-reason-says-i-will-beguile-him-with-the-tongue-love) because I love Rumi's poems.
> 
> Now, for something a little more complicated. The first paragraph of the second section has a few quotes. "Its fruits are sweet in moderation, but in excess it becomes a fatal madness and a mysterious debility whose victim desires no cure," is a quote from Ibrahim ibn Sayyar al-Nazzam. "Love swayed the lovers’ natures, made their reasons submit, and subdued their will" is originally "It holds sway over natures; reason submits to it, the will is subdued by it," a quote by Abu Malik al-Hadrami. Another line is also taken from him: "...is more deeply hidden and hotter than coals." There's a line about love being like flame which is inspired by Mawbad. All of them are from a journal titled "Mas'udi on Love and the Fall of the Barmakids" by Julie Scott Meisami. I can't find the pdf online, so if you're interested in reading it, let me know and I'll email it to you.
> 
> Lastly, Kili mistaking Fili for Thorin's secret crush is inspired by this [ Chinese TV show](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Fair_Princess) I watched ages ago. The show drags it on a little longer and it's probably one of the most adorable love confessions I've ever seen, but I have no patience for it here. It has an amazing costume porn, though I can't say how accurate it is (probably not very.) Check out the pictures if you have the time!
> 
> I've been trying to rearrange my schedule to have better work-play-dying from stress and anxiety balance, but I haven't had any luck so far. My only option is cutting my sleep and I already have very little sleep, so writing is going to be even slower now. Please click the link below to cheer me up or tell me to sleep more than 3-4 hours a night.
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> Fili's first poem is by Walid ibn Yazid, while Kili's is by Abu Nuwas. Both can be found [here](https://books.google.co.id/books?isbn=178074188X). The poem by Abu Nuwas was what inspired me to write this fic! His works are very interesting and raunchy (lots of slash-y goodness there) and you can find some of them in that link, but be careful as some of them contain rape. Fili's next poem is by [Sultan Murad II](http://www.ottomansouvenir.com/General/Turkish_Poetry.htm#Ruba'i) and Kili's is by [Rumi](https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-is-reckless/). I figure that Fili's works are more poetic and flowery, while Kili's are simpler, although no less pretty. Thorin's work are kind of somewhere in the middle, as you will see next chapter. I was going to put a poem of his here, but I can't find a way to insert it that isn't clunky.
> 
> You may notice that some of the poems in the links are sort of religious in nature. I've consulted the historian I mentioned above and she assured me that Persian poems in particular have multiple meanings, i.e. Beloved could refer to both God and a lover, among other things, and that very good poems are broad enough to be interpreted in many ways. So, I'm not (really) taking things out of context here. I'm just using an alternative interpretation!
> 
> For now I can still be found on [tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
